OLD MAN (sinks down exhausted).

I can no more.

TASK. (shaking him).

Up, up, old man, to work!

1ST. W.

Have you no bowels of compassion, thus To press so hard upon a poor old man That scarce can drag his feeble limbs along?

MASTER MASON and WORKMEN.

Shame, shame upon you—shame! It cries to heaven.

TASK.

Mind your own business. I but do my duty.

1ST W.

Pray, Master, what's to be the name of this Same castle, when 'tis built?

TASK.

The Keep of Uri; For by it we shall keep you in subjection.

WORK.

The Keep of Uri?

TASK.

Well, why laugh at that?

2D W.

Keep Uri, will you, with this paltry place!

1ST W.

How many molehills such as that must first Be piled up each on each, ere you make A mountain equal to the least in Uri?

[TASKMASTER retires up the stage.]

MAS. M.

I'll drown the mallet in the deepest lake, That served my hand on this accursed pile.

[Enter TELL and STAUFFACHER.]

STAUFF.

O, that I had not lived to see this sight!

TELL.

Here 'tis not good to be. Let us proceed.

STAUFF.

Am I in Uri—Uri, freedom's home?

MAS. M.

O, Sir, if you could only see the vaults Beneath these towers. The man that tenants them Will ne'er hear cock crow more.

STAUFF.

O God! O God!

MASON.

Look at these ramparts and these buttresses, That seem as they were built to last forever.

TELL.

What hands have built, my friend, hands can destroy.

[Pointing to the mountains.]

That home of freedom God hath built for us.

[A drum is heard. People enter bearing a cap upon a pole, followed by a crier. Women and children thronging tumultuously after them.]

1ST W.

What means the drum? Give heed!

MASON.

Why, here's a mumming! And look, the cap—what can they mean by that?

CRIER.

In the Emperor's name, give ear!

WORK.

Hush! silence! hush!

CRIER.

Ye men of Uri, ye do see this cap! It will be set upon a lofty pole In Altdorf, in the market place: and this Is the Lord Governor's good will and pleasure; The cap shall have like honor as himself, All do it reverence with bended knee, And head uncovered; thus the King will know Who are his true and loyal subjects here; His life and goods are forfeit to the crown That shall refuse obedience to the order.

[The people burst out into laughter. The drum beats and the procession passes on.]

1ST W.

A strange device to fall upon indeed: Do reverence to a cap! A pretty farce! Heard ever mortal anything like this?

MAS. M.

Down to a cap on bended knee, forsooth! Rare jesting this with men of sober sense!

1ST W.

Nay, an it were the imperial crown! A cap! Merely the cap of Austria! I've seen it Hanging above the throne in Gessler's hall.

MASON.

The cap of Austria? Mark that! A snare To get us into Austria's power, by Heaven!

WORK.

No freeborn man will stoop to such disgrace.

MAS. M.

Come—to our comrades, and advise with them;

[They retire up.]

TELL (to STAUFFACHER).

You see how matters stand! Farewell, my friend!

STAUFF.

Whither away? Oh, leave us not so soon.

TELL.

They look for me at home. So fare ye well.

STAUFF.

My heart's so full, and has so much to tell you.

TELL.

Words will not make a heart that's heavy light.

STAUFF.

Yet words may possibly conduct to deeds.

TELL.

Endure in silence! We can do no more.

STAUFF.

But shall we bear what is not to be borne?

TELL.

Impetuous rulers have the shortest reigns. When the fierce south wind rises from his chasms, Men cover up their fires, the ships in haste Make for the harbor, and the mighty spirit Sweeps o'er the earth, and leaves no trace behind. Let every man live quietly at home; Peace to the peaceful rarely is denied.

STAUFF.

And is it thus you view our grievances?

TELL.

The serpent stings not till it is provoked; Let them alone; they'll weary of themselves, When they shall see we are not to be roused.

STAUFF.

Much might be done—did we stand fast together.

TELL.

When the ship founders, he will best escape Who seeks no other's safety but his own.

STAUFF.

And you desert the common cause so coldly?

TELL.

A man can safely count but on himself!

STAUFF.

Nay, even the weak grow strong by union.

TELL.

But the strong man is strongest when alone.

STAUFF.

So, then, your country cannot count on you, If in despair she rise against her foes.

TELL.

Tell rescues the lost sheep from yawning gulfs: Is he a man, then, to desert his friends? Yet, whatsoe'er you do, spare me from council! I was not born to ponder and select; But when your course of action is resolved, Then call on Tell: you shall not find him fail.

[Exeunt severally. A sudden tumult is heard around the scaffolding.]

MASON (running in).

What's wrong?

FIRST WORKMAN (running forward).

The slater's fallen from the roof.

BERTHA (rushing in).

Heavens! Is he dashed to pieces? Save him, help! If help be possible, save him! Here is gold.

[Throws her trinkets among the people.]

MASON.

Hence with your gold—your universal charm, And remedy for ill! When you have torn Fathers from children, husbands from their wives, And scattered woe and wail throughout the land, You think with gold to compensate for all. Hence! Till we saw you, we were happy men; With you came misery and dark despair.

BERTHA (to the TASKMASTER, who has returned).

Lives he?

[TASKMASTER shakes his head.]

Ill-omened towers, with curses built, And doomed with curses to be tenanted!

[Exit.]

SCENE IV

The house of WALTER FUeRST. WALTER FUeRST and ARNOLD VON MELCHTHAL enter simultaneously at different sides.

MELCH.

Good Walter Fuerst

FUeRST.

If we should be surprised! Stay where you are. We are beset with spies.

MELCH.

Have you no news for me from Unterwald? What of my father? 'Tis not to be borne Thus to be pent up like a felon here! What have I done so heinous that I must Skulk here in hiding, like a murderer? I only laid my staff across the fists Of the pert varlet, when before my eyes, By order of the governor, he tried To drive away my handsome team of oxen.

FUeRST.

You are too rash by far. He did no more Than what the governor had ordered him. You had transgress'd, and therefore should have paid The penalty, however hard, in silence.

MELCH.

Was I to brook the fellow's saucy gibe— "That if the peasant must have bread to eat, Why, let him go and draw the plough himself?" It cut me to the very soul to see My oxen, noble creatures, when the knave Unyoked them from the plough. As though they felt The wrong, they lowed and butted with their horns. On this I could contain myself no longer, And, overcome by passion, struck him down.

FUeRST.

O, we old men can scarce command ourselves! And can we wonder youth breaks out of bounds?

MELCH.

I'm only sorry for my father's sake! To be away from him, that needs so much My fostering care! The governor detests him, Because, whene'er occasion served, he has Stood stoutly up for right and liberty. Therefore they'll bear him hard—the poor old man! And there is none to shield him from their grip. Come what come may, I must go home again.

FUeRST.

Compose yourself, and wait in patience till We get some tidings o'er from Unterwald. Away I away! I hear a knock! Perhaps A message from the Viceroy! Get thee in! You are not safe from Landenberger's[42] arm In Uri, for these tyrants pull together.

MELCH.

They teach us Switzers what we ought to do.

FUeRST.

Away! I'll call you when the coast is clear.

[MELCHTHAL retires.]

Unhappy youth! I dare not tell him all The evil that my boding heart predicts! Who's there? The door ne'er opens, but I look For tidings of mishap. Suspicion lurks With darkling treachery in every nook. Even to our inmost rooms they force their way, These myrmidons of power; and soon we'll need To fasten bolts and bars upon our doors.

[He opens the door, and steps back in surprise as WERNER STAUFFACHER enters.]

What do I see? You, Werner? Now, by Heaven! A valued guest, indeed. No man e'er set His foot across this threshold, more esteem'd, Welcome! thrice welcome, Werner, to my roof! What brings you here? What seek you here in Uri?

STAUFFACHER (shakes FUeRST by the hand).

The olden times and olden Switzerland.

FUeRST.

You bring them with you. See how glad I am, My heart leaps at the very sight of you. Sit down—sit down, and tell me how you left Your charming wife, fair Gertrude? Iberg's child, And clever as her father. Not a man That wends from Germany, by Meinrad's Cell,[43] To Italy, but praises far and wide Your house's hospitality. But say, Have you come here direct from Flueelen, And have you noticed nothing on your way, Before you halted at my door?

STAUFFACHER (sits down).

I saw A work in progress, as I came along, I little thought to see—that likes me ill.

FUeRST.

O friend! you've lighted on my thought at once.

STAUFF.

Such things in Uri ne'er were known before. Never was prison here in man's remembrance, Nor ever any stronghold but the grave.

FUeRST.

You name it well. It is the grave of freedom.

STAUFF.

Friend, Walter Fuerst, I will be plain with you. No idle curiosity it is That brings me here, but heavy cares. I left Thraldom at home, and thraldom meets me here. Our wrongs, e'en now, are more than we can bear, And who shall tell us where they are to end? From eldest time the Switzer has been free, Accustom'd only to the mildest rule. Such things as now we suffer ne'er were known, Since herdsman first drove cattle to the hills.

FUeRST.

Yes, our oppressions are unparallel'd! Why, even our own good lord of Attinghaus, Who lived in olden times, himself declares They are no longer to be tamely borne.

STAUFF.

In Unterwalden yonder 'tis the same; And bloody has the retribution been. The imperial Seneschal, the Wolfshot, who At Rossberg dwelt, long'd for forbidden fruit— Baumgarten's wife, that lives at Alzellen, He tried to make a victim to his lust, On which the husband slew him with his age.

FUeRST.

O, Heaven is just in all its judgments still! Baumgarten, say you? A most worthy man. Has he escaped, and is he safely hid?

STAUFF.

Your son-in-law conveyed him o'er the lake, And he lies hidden in my house at Steinen. He brought the tidings with him of a thing That has been done at Sarnen, worse than all, A thing to make the very heart run blood!

FUeRST (attentively).

Say on. What is it?

STAUFF.

There dwells in Melchthal, then, Just as you enter by the road from Kerns, An upright man, named Henry of the Halden, A man of weight and influence in the Diet.

FUeRST.

Who knows him not? But what of him? Proceed!

STAUFF.

The Landenberg, to punish some offense Committed by the old man's son, it seems, Had given command to take the youth's best pair Of oxen from his plough; on which the lad Struck down the messenger and took to flight.

FUeRST.

But the old father—tell me, what of him?

STAUFF.

The Landenberg sent for him, and required He should produce his son upon the spot; And when the old man protested, and with truth, That he knew nothing of the fugitive, The tyrant call'd his torturers.

FUeRST (springs up and tries to lead him to the other side).

Hush, no more!

STAUFFACHER (with increasing warmth).

"And though thy son," he cried, "has 'scaped me now, I have thee fast, and thou shalt feel my vengeance." With that they flung the old man to the ground, And plunged the pointed steel into his eyes.

FUeRST.

Merciful Heaven!

MELCHTHAL (rushing out). Into his eyes, his eyes?

STAUFFACHER (addresses himself in astonishment to WALTER FUeRST).

Who is this youth?

MELCHTHAL (grasping him convulsively). Into his eyes? Speak, speak!

FUeRST.

O, miserable hour!

STAUFF.

Who is it, tell me!

[STAUFFACHER makes a sign to him.]

It is his son! All-righteous Heaven!

MELCH.

And I Must be from thence! What! into both his eyes?

FUeRST.

Be calm, be calm; and bear it like a man!

MELCH.

And all for me—for my mad wilful folly! Blind, did you say? Quite blind—and both his eyes?

STAUFF.

Ev'n so. 'The fountain of his sight is quench'd, He ne'er will see the blessed sunshine more.

FUeRST.

Oh, spare his anguish!

MELCH.

Never, never more!

[Presses his hands upon his eyes and is silent for some moments: then turning from one to the other speaks in a subdued tone, broken by sobs.]

O the eye's light, of all the gifts of Heaven, The dearest, best! From light all beings live— Each fair created thing—the very plants Turn with a joyful transport to the light, And he—he must drag on through all his days In endless darkness! Never more for him The sunny meads shall glow, the flow'rets bloom; Nor shall he more behold the roseate tints Of the iced mountain top! To die is nothing. But to have life, and not have sight—oh, that Is misery indeed! Why do you look So piteously at me? I have two eyes, Yet to my poor blind father can give neither! No, not one gleam of that great sea of light, That with its dazzling splendor floods my gaze.

STAUFF.

Ah, I must swell the measure of your grief, Instead of soothing it. The worst, alas! Remains to tell. They've stripp'd him of his all; Naught have they left him, save his staff, on which, Blind, and in rags, he moves from door to door.

MELCH.

Naught but his staff to the old eyeless man! Stripp'd of his all—even of the light of day, The common blessing of the meanest wretch? Tell me no more of patience, of concealment! Oh, what a base and coward thing am I, That on mine own security I thought And took no care of thine! Thy precious head Left as a pledge within the tyrant's grasp! Hence, craven-hearted prudence, hence! And all My thoughts be vengeance, and the despot's blood! I'll seek him straight—no power shall stay me now— And at his hands demand my father's eyes. I'll beard him 'mid a thousand myrmidons! What's life to me, if in his heart's best blood I cool the fever of this mighty anguish.

[He is going.]

FUeRST.

Stay, this is madness, Melchthal! What avails Your single arm against his power? He sits At Sarnen high within his lordly keep, And, safe within its battlemented walls, May laugh to scorn your unavailing rage.

MELCH.

And though he sat within the icy domes Of yon far Schreckhorn—ay, or higher, where, Veil'd since eternity, the Jungfrau soars, Still to the tyrant would I make my way; With twenty comrades minded like myself, I'd lay his fastness level with the earth! And if none follow me, and if you all, In terror for your homesteads and your herds, Bow in submission to the tyrant's yoke, Round me I'll call the herdsmen on the hills, And there beneath heaven's free and boundless roof, Where men still feel as men, and hearts are true, Proclaim aloud this foul enormity!

STAUFFACHER (to FUeRST).

The measure's full—and are we then to wait Till some extremity—

MELCH.

Peace! What extremity Remains for us to dread? What, when our eyes No longer in their sockets are secure? Heavens! Are we helpless? Wherefore did we learn To bend the cross-bow—wield the battle-axe? What living creature but in its despair, Finds for itself a weapon of defence? The baited stag will turn, and with the show Of his dread antlers hold the hounds at bay; The chamois drags the huntsman down th' abyss; The very ox, the partner of man's toil, The sharer of his roof, that meekly bends The strength of his huge neck beneath the yoke, Springs up, if he's provoked, whets his strong horn, And tosses his tormentor to the clouds.

FUeRST.

If the three Cantons thought as we three do, Something might, then, be done, with good effect.

STAUFF.

When Uri calls, when Unterwald replies, Schwytz will be mindful of her ancient league.[44]

MELCH.

I've many friends in Unterwald, and none That would not gladly venture life and limb, If fairly back'd and aided by the rest. Oh! sage and reverend fathers of this land, Here do I stand before your riper years, An unskill'd youth, who in the Diet must Into respectful silence hush his voice. Yet do not, for that I am young, and want Experience, slight my counsel and my words. 'Tis not the wantonness of youthful blood That fires my spirit; but a pang so deep That e'en the flinty rocks must pity me. You, too, are fathers, heads of families, And you must wish to have a virtuous son, To reverence your gray hairs, and shield your eyes With pious and affectionate regard. Do not, I pray, because in limb and fortune You still are unassail'd, and still your eyes Revolve undimm'd and sparkling in their spheres— Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs! Above you, also, hangs the tyrant's sword. You, too, have striven to alienate the land From Austria. This was all my father's crime: You share his guilt, and may his punishment.

STAUFFACHER (to FUeRST).

Do thou resolve! I am prepared to follow.

FUeRST.

First let us learn what steps the noble lords Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose. Their names would rally thousands to the cause.

MELCH.

Is there a name within the Forest Mountains That carries more respect than yours—and yours? On names like these the people build their trust In time of need—such names are household words. Rich was your heritage of manly worth, And richly have you added to its stores. What need of nobles? Let us do the work Ourselves. Yes, though we have to stand alone, We shall be able to maintain our rights.

STAUFF.

The nobles' wrongs are not so great as ours. The torrent, that lays waste the lower grounds, Hath not ascended to the uplands yet. But let them see the country once in arms, They'll not refuse to lend a helping hand.

FUeRST.

Were there an umpire 'twixt ourselves and Austria, Justice and law might then decide our quarrel. But our oppressor is our Emperor too, And judge supreme. 'Tis God must help us, then, And our own arm! Be yours the task to rouse The men of Schwytz; I'll rally friends in Uri. But whom are we to send to Unterwald?

MELCH.

Thither send me. Whom should it more concern?

FUeRST.

No, Melchthal, no; you are my guest, and I Must answer for your safety.

MELCH.

Let me go. I know each forest track and mountain path; Friends too, I'll find, be sure, on every hand, To give me willing shelter from the foe.

STAUFF.

Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there: For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald, No tools can there be found to work her will. In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller Will gain confederates, and rouse the country.

MELCH.

But how shall we communicate, and not Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants?

STAUFF.

Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib, Where merchant vessels with their cargoes come?

FUeRST.

We must not go so openly to work. Hear my opinion. On the lake's left bank, As we sail hence to Brunnen, right against The Mytenstein, deep-hidden in the wood A meadow lies, by shepherds called the Rootli, Because the wood has been uprooted there. 'Tis where our Canton bound'ries verge on yours;—

[To MELCHTHAL.]

Your boat will carry you across from Schwytz.

[To STAUFFACHER.]

Thither by lonely by-paths let us wend At midnight, and deliberate o'er our plans. Let each bring with him there ten trusty men, All one at heart with us; and then we may Consult together for the general weal, And, with God's guidance, fix what next to do.

STAUFF.

So let it be. And now your true right hand! Yours, too, young man! and as we now three men Among ourselves thus knit our hands together In all sincerity and truth, e'en so Shall we three Cantons, too, together stand In victory and defeat, in life and death.

FUeRST and MELCHTHAL.

In life and death.

[They hold their hands clasped together for some moments in silence.]

MELCH.

Alas, my old blind father! The day of freedom, that thou canst not see. But thou shalt hear it, when from Alp to Alp The beacon fires throw up their flaming signs, And the proud castles of the tyrants fall, Into thy cottage shall the Switzer burst, Bear the glad tidings to thine ear, and o'er Thy darken'd way shall Freedom's radiance pour.

* * * * *



ACT II

SCENE I

The Mansion of the BARON of ATTINGHAUSEN. A Gothic Hall, decorated with escutcheons and helmets. The BARON, a gray-headed man, eighty-five years old, tall and of a commanding mien, clad in a furred pelisse, and leaning on a staff tipped with chamois horn. KUONI and six hinds standing round him with rakes and scythes. ULRICH of RUDENZ enters in the costume of a Knight.

RUDENZ.

Uncle, I'm here! Your will?

ATTINGHAUSEN.

First let me share, After the ancient custom of our house, The morning cup, with these my faithful servants!

[He drinks from a cup, which is then passed round.]

Time was, I stood myself in field and wood, With mine own eyes directing all their toil, Even as my banner led them in the fight; Now I am only fit to play the steward: And, if the genial sun come not to me, I can no longer seek it on the hills. Thus slowly, in an ever narrowing sphere, I move on to the narrowest and the last, Where all life's pulses cease. I now am but The shadow of my former self, and that Is fading fast—'twill soon be but a name.

KUONI (offering RUDENZ the cup).

A pledge, young master!

[RUDENZ hesitates to take the cup.]

Nay, Sir, drink it off. One cup, one heart! You know our proverb, Sir?

ATTING.

Go, children, and at eve, when work is done, We'll meet and talk the country's business over.

[Exeunt Servants.]

Belted and plumed, and all thy bravery on! Thou art for Altdorf—for the castle, boy?

RUDENZ.

Yes, uncle. Longer may I not delay—

ATTINGHAUSEN (sitting down).

Why in such haste? Say, are thy youthful hours Doled in such niggard measure, that thou must Be chary of them to thy aged uncle?

RUDENZ.

I see my presence is not needed here; I am but as a stranger in this house.

ATTINGHAUSEN (gazes fixedly at him for a considerable time).

Ay, pity 'tis thou art! Alas, that home To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly! I scarce do know thee now, thus deck'd in silks, The peacock's feather[45] flaunting in thy cap, And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung; Thou look'st upon the peasant with disdain; And tak'st his honest greeting with a blush.

RUDENZ.

All honor due to him I gladly pay, But must deny the right he would usurp.

ATTING.

The sore displeasure of its monarch rests Upon our land, and every true man's heart Is full of sadness for the grievous wrongs We suffer from our tyrants. Thou alone Art all unmoved amid the general grief. Abandoning thy friends, thou tak'st thy stand Beside thy country's foes, and, as in scorn Of our distress, pursuest giddy joys, Courting the smiles of princes all the while Thy country bleeds beneath their cruel scourge.

RUDENZ.

The land is sore oppress'd, I know it, uncle. But why? Who plunged it into this distress? A word, one little easy word, might buy Instant deliverance from all our ills, And win the good will of the Emperor. Woe unto those who seal the people's eyes, And make them adverse to their country's good— The men, who, for their own vile selfish ends, Are seeking to prevent the Forest States From swearing fealty to Austria's House, As all the countries round about have done. It fits their humor well, to take their seats Amid the nobles on the Herrenbank;[46] They'll have the Kaiser for their lord, forsooth— That is to say, they'll have no lord at all.

ATTING.

Must I hear this, and from thy lips, rash boy!

RUDENZ.

You urged me to this answer. Hear me out. What, uncle, is the character you've stoop'd To fill contentedly through life? Have you No higher pride than in these lonely wilds To be the Landamman or Banneret,[47] The petty chieftain of a shepherd race? How! Were it not a far more glorious choice, To bend in homage to our royal lord, And swell the princely splendors of his court, Than sit at home, the peer of your own vassals, And share the judgment-seat with vulgar clowns?

ATTING.

Ah, Uly, Uly; all too well I see, The tempter's voice has caught thy willing ear, And pour'd its subtle poison in thy heart.

RUDENZ.

Yes, I conceal it not. It doth offend My inmost soul, to hear the stranger's gibes, That taunt us with the name of "Peasant Nobles!" Think you the heart that's stirring here can brook, While all the young nobility around Are reaping honor under Habsburg's banner, That I should loiter, in inglorious ease, Here on the heritage my fathers left, And, in the dull routine of vulgar toil, Lose all life's glorious spring? In other lands Great deeds are done. A world of fair renown Beyond these mountains stirs in martial pomp. My helm and shield are rusting in the hall; The martial trumpet's spirit-stirring blast, The herald's call, inviting to the lists, Rouse not the echoes of these vales, where naught Save cowherd's horn and cattle bell is heard, In one unvarying dull monotony.

ATTING.

Deluded boy, seduced by empty show! Despise the land that gave thee birth! Ashamed Of the good ancient customs of thy sires! The day will come, when thou, with burning tears, Wilt long for home, and for thy native hills, And that dear melody of tuneful herds, Which now, in proud disgust, thou dost despise! A day when wistful pangs shall shake thy heart, Hearing their music in a foreign land. Oh! potent is the spell that binds to home! No, no, the cold, false world is not for thee. At the proud court, with thy true heart, thou wilt Forever feel a stranger among strangers. The world asks virtues of far other stamp Than thou hast learned within these simple vales. But go—go thither—barter thy free soul, Take land in fief, be minion to a prince, Where thou might'st be lord paramount, and prince Of all thine own unburden'd heritage! O, Uly, Uly, stay among thy people! Go not to Altdorf. Oh, abandon not The sacred cause of thy wrong'd native land! I am the last of all my race. My name Ends with me. Yonder hang my helm and shield; They will be buried with me in the grave.[48] And must I think, when yielding up my breath, That thou but wait'st the closing of mine eyes, To stoop thy knee to this new feudal court, And take in vassalage from Austria's hands The noble lands, which I from God received, Free and unfetter'd as the mountain air!

RUDENZ.

'Tis vain for us to strive against the king. The world pertains to him. Shall we alone, In mad presumptuous obstinacy, strive To break that mighty chain of lands, which he Hath drawn around us with his giant grasp? His are the markets, his the courts—his, too, The highways; nay, the very carrier's horse, That traffics on the Gotthardt, pays him toll. By his dominions, as within a net, We are inclosed, and girded round about— And will the Empire shield us? Say, can it Protect itself 'gainst Austria's growing power? To God, and not to emperors must we look! What store can on their promises be placed, When they, to meet their own necessities, Can pawn, and even alienate the towns That flee for shelter 'neath the Eagle's wings?[49] No, uncle! It is wise and wholesome prudence, In times like these, when faction's all abroad, To vow attachment to some mighty chief. The imperial crown's transferred from line to line.[50] It has no memory for faithful service But to secure the favor of these great Hereditary masters, were to sow Seed for a future harvest.

ATTINGHAUSEN.

Art so wise? Wilt thou see clearer than thy noble sires, Who battled for fair freedom's priceless gem With life, and fortune, and heroic arm? Sail down the lake to Lucern, there inquire How Austria's thraldom weighs the Cantons down. Soon she will come to count our sheep, our cattle, To portion out the Alps, e'en to their peaks, And in our own free woods to hinder us From striking down the eagle or the stag; To set her tolls on every bridge and gate, Impoverish us, to swell her lust of sway, And drain our dearest blood to feed her wars. No, if our blood must flow, let it be shed In our own cause! We purchase liberty More cheaply far than bondage.

RUDENZ.

What can we, A shepherd race, against great Albert's hosts?

ATTING.

Learn, foolish boy, to know this shepherd race! I know them, I have led them on in fight— I saw them in the battle of Favenz. What! Austria try, forsooth, to force on us A yoke we are determined not to bear! Oh, learn to feel from what a stock thou'rt sprung; Cast not, for tinsel trash and idle show, The precious jewel of thy worth away. To be the chieftain of a free born race, Bound to thee only by their unbought love, Ready to stand—to fight—to die with thee, Be that thy pride, be that thy noblest boast! Knit to thy heart the ties of kindred—home— Cling to the land, the dear land of thy sires, Grapple to that with thy whole heart and soul! Thy power is rooted deep and strongly here, But in yon stranger world thou'lt stand alone, A trembling reed beat down by every blast. Oh come! 'tis long since we have seen thee, Uly! Tarry but this one day. Only today! Go not to Altdorf. Wilt thou? Not today! For this one day, bestow thee on thy friends.

[Takes his hand.]

RUDENZ.

I gave my word. Unhand me! I am bound.

ATTING. (drops his hand and says sternly).

Bound, didst thou say? Oh yes, unhappy boy, Thou art indeed. But not by word or oath. 'Tis by the silken mesh of love thou'rt bound.

[RUDENZ turns away.]

Ay, hide thee, as thou wilt. 'Tis she, I know, Bertha of Bruneck, draws thee to the court; 'Tis she that chains thee to the Emperor's service. Thou think'st to win the noble knightly maid By thy apostacy. Be not deceived. She is held out before thee as a lure; But never meant for innocence like thine.

RUDENZ.

No more, I've heard enough. So fare you well.

[Exit.]

ATTING.

Stay, Uly! Stay! Rash boy, he's gone! I can Nor hold him back, nor save him from destruction. And so the Wolfshot has deserted us; Others will follow his example soon. This foreign witchery, sweeping o'er our hills, Tears with its potent spell our youth away. O luckless hour, when men and manners strange Into these calm and happy valleys came, To warp our primitive and guileless ways! The new is pressing on with might. The old, The good, the simple, all fleet fast away. New times come on. A race is springing up That think not as their fathers thought before! What do I hear? All, all are in the grave With whom erewhile I moved, and held converse; My age has long been laid beneath the sod Happy the man, who may not live to see What shall be done by those that follow me!

SCENE II

A meadow surrounded by high rocks and wooded ground. On the rocks are tracks, with rails and ladders, by which the peasants are afterward seen descending. In the background the lake is observed, and over it a moon rainbow in the early part of the scene. The prospect is closed by lofty mountains, with glaciers rising behind them. The stage is dark, but the lake and glaciers glisten in the moonlight.

MELCHTHAL, BAUMGARTEN, WINKELRIED, MEYER VON SARNEN BURKHART AM BUHEL, ARNOLD VON SEWA, KLAUS VON DER FLUE, and four other peasants, all armed.

MELCHTHAL (behind the scenes).

The mountain pass is open. Follow me! I see the rock, and little cross upon it: This is the spot; here is the Rootli.

[They enter with torches.]

WINKELRIED.

Hark!

SEWA.

The coast is clear.

MEYER.

None of our comrades come? We are the first, we Unterwaldeners.

MELCH.

How far is't i' the night?

BAUMGARTEN.

The beacon watch Upon the Selisberg has just called two.

[A bell is heard at a distance.]

MEYER.

Hush! Hark!

BUHEL.

The forest chapel's matin bell Chimes clearly o'er the lake from Switzerland.

VON F.

The air is clear and bears the sound so far.

MELCH.

Go, you and you, and light some broken boughs, Let's bid them welcome with a cheerful blaze.

[Two peasants exeunt.]

SEWA.

The moon shines fair tonight. Beneath its beams The lake reposes, bright as burnish'd steel.

BUHEL. They'll have an easy passage.

WINK. (pointing to the lake).

Ha! look there! Do you see nothing?

MEYER.

Ay, indeed, I do! A rainbow in the middle of the night.

MELCH.

Formed by the bright reflection of the moon!

VON F.

A sign most strange and wonderful, indeed! Many there be who ne'er have seen the like.

SEWA.

'Tis doubled, see, a paler one above!

BAUM.

A boat is gliding yonder right beneath it.

MELCH.

That must be Werner Stauffacher! I knew The worthy patriot would not tarry long.

[Goes with BAUMGARTEN toward the shore.]

MEYER.

The Uri men are like to be the last.

BUHEL.

They're forced to take a winding circuit through The mountains; for the Viceroy's spies are out.

[In the meanwhile the two peasants have kindled a fire in the centre of the stage.] MELCHTHAL (on the shore).

Who's there? The word?

STAUFFACHER (from below).

Friends of the country.

[All retire up the stage, toward the party landing from the boat. Enter STAUFFACHER, ITEL REDING, HANS AUF DER MAUER, JORG IM HOFE, CONRAD HUNN, ULRICH DER SCHMIDT, JOST VON WEILER, and three other peasants, armed.]

ALL.

Welcome!

[While the rest remain behind exchanging greetings, MELCHTHAL Comes forward with STAUFFACHER.]

MELCH.

Oh worthy Stauffacher, I've look'd but now On him who could not look on me again; I've laid my hands upon his rayless eyes, And on their vacant orbits sworn a vow Of vengeance, only to be cool'd in blood.

STAUFF.

Speak not of vengeance. We are here, to meet The threatened evil, not to avenge the past. Now tell me what you've done, and what secured, To aid the common cause in Unterwald. How stand the peasantry disposed, and how Yourself escaped the wiles of treachery?

MELCH.

Through the Surenen's fearful mountain chain, Where dreary ice-fields stretch on every side, And sound is none save the hoarse vulture's cry, I reach'd the Alpine pasture, where the herds From Uri and from Engelberg resort, And turn their cattle forth to graze in common. Still as I went along, I slaked my thirst With the coarse oozings of the glacier heights That thro' the crevices come foaming down, And turned to rest me in the herdsmen's cots,[51] Where I was host and guest, until I gain'd The cheerful homes and social haunts of men. Already through these distant vales had spread The rumor of this last atrocity; And wheresoe'er I went, at every door, Kind words saluted me and gentle looks. I found these simple spirits all in arms Against our rulers' tyrannous encroachments. For as their Alps through each succeeding year Yield the same roots—their streams flow ever on In the same channels—nay, the clouds and winds The selfsame course unalterably pursue, So have old customs there, from sire to son, Been handed down, unchanging and unchanged; Nor will they brook to swerve or turn aside From the fixed even tenor of their life. With grasp of their hard hands they welcomed me— Took from the walls their rusty falchions down— And from their eyes the soul of valor flash'd With joyful lustre, as I spoke those names, Sacred to every peasant in the mountains, Your own and Walter Fuerst's. Whate'er your voice Should dictate as the right, they swore to do; And you they swore to follow e'en to death. —So sped I on from house to house, secure In the guest's sacred privilege;—and when I reached at last the valley of my home, Where dwell my kinsmen, scatter'd far and near— And when I found my father, stript and blind, Upon the stranger's straw, fed by the alms Of charity—

STAUFFACHER.

Great heavens!

MELCHTHAL.

Yet wept I not! No—not in weak and unavailing tears Spent I the force of my fierce burning anguish; Deep in my bosom, like some precious treasure, I lock'd it fast, and thought on deeds alone. Through every winding of the hills I crept— No valley so remote but I explored it; Nay, at the very glacier's ice-clad base, I sought and found the homes of living men; And still, where'er my wandering footsteps turn'd, The selfsame hatred of these tyrants met me. For even there, at vegetation's verge, Where the numb'd earth is barren of all fruits, Their grasping hands had been for plunder thrust. Into the hearts of all this honest race The story of my wrongs struck deep, and now They, to a man, are ours; both heart and hand.

STAUFF.

Great things, indeed, you've wrought in little time.

MELCH.

I did still more than this. The fortresses, Rossberg and Sarnen, are the country's dread; For from behind their adamantine walls The foe, like eagle from his eyrie swoops, And, safe himself, spreads havoc o'er the land. With my own eyes I wish'd to weigh its strength, So went to Sarnen, and explored the castle.

STAUFF.

How! Venture even into the tiger's den?

MELCH.

Disguised in pilgrim's weeds I entered it; I saw the Viceroy feasting at his board— Judge if I'm master of myself or no! I saw the tyrant, and I slew him not!

STAUFF.

Fortune, indeed, upon your boldness smiled.

[Meanwhile the others have arrived and join MELCHTHAL and STAUFFACHER.]

Yet tell me now, I pray, who are the friends, The worthy men, who came along with you Make me acquainted with them, that we may Speak frankly, man to man, and heart to heart.

MEYER.

In the three Cantons, who, sir, knows not you? Meyer of Sarnen is my name; and this Is Struth of Winkelried, my sister's son.

STAUFF.

No unknown name. A Winkelried it was Who slew the dragon in the fen at Weiler, And lost his life in the encounter, too.

WINK.

That, Master Stauffacher, was my grandfather.

MELCHTHAL (pointing to two peasants).

These two are men who till the cloister lands Of Engelberg, and live behind the forest. You'll not think ill of them, because they're serfs, And sit not free upon the soil, like us; They love the land, and bear a good repute.

STAUFFACHER (to them).

Give me your hands. He has good cause for thanks That to no man his body's service owes. But worth is worth, no matter where 'tis found.

HUNN.

That is Herr Reding, sir, our old Landamman;

MEYER.

I know him well. I am at law with him About a piece of ancient heritage. Herr Reding, we are enemies in court— Here we are one.

[Shakes his hand.]

STAUFFACHER.

That's well and bravely said.

WINK. Listen! They come. The horn of Uri! Hark!

[On the right and left armed men are seen descending the rocks with torches.]

MAUER.

Look, is not that the holy man of God? A worthy priest! The terrors of the night, And the way's pains and perils scare not him, A faithful shepherd caring for his flock. BAUM. The Sacrist follows him, and Walter Fuerst. But where is Tell? I do not see him there.

[WALTER FUeRST, ROeSSELMANN the Pastor, PETERMANN the Sacrist, KUONI the Shepherd WERNI the Huntsman, RUODI the Fisherman, and other countrymen, thirty-three in all, advance and take their places round the fire.]

FUeRST.

Thus must we, on the soil our fathers left us, Creep forth by stealth to meet like murderers, And in the night, that should her mantle lend Only to, crime and black conspiracy, Assert our own good rights which yet are clear As is the radiance of the noonday sun.

MELCH.

So be it. What is hatch'd in gloom of night Shall free and boldly meet the morning light.

ROeSSEL.

Confederates! Listen to the words which God Inspires my heart withal. Here we are met, To represent the general weal. In us Are all the people of the land convened. Then let us hold the Diet, as of old, And as we're wont in peaceful times to do. The time's necessity be our excuse, If there be aught informal in this meeting. Still, wheresoe'er men strike for justice, there Is God, and now beneath His heav'n we stand.

STAUFF.

'Tis well advised.—Let us, then, hold the Diet, According to our ancient usages.— Though it be night, there's sunshine in our cause.

MELCH.

Few though our numbers be, the hearts are here Of the whole people; here the BEST are met.

HUNN.

The ancient books may not be near at hand, Yet are they graven in our inmost hearts.

ROeSSEL.

'Tis well. And now, then, let a ring be formed, And plant the swords of power within the ground.[52]

MAUER.

Let the Landamman step into his place, And by his side his secretaries stand.

SACRIST.

There are three Cantons here. Which hath the right To give the head to the united Council? Schwytz may contest that dignity with Uri; We Unterwald'ners enter not the field.

MELCH.

We stand aside. We are but suppliants here, Invoking aid from our more potent friends.

STAUFF.

Let Uri have the sword. Her banner takes, In battle, the precedence of our own.

FUeRST.

Schwytz, then, must share the honor of the sword; For she's the honored ancestor of all.

ROeSSEL.

Let me arrange this generous controversy. Uri shall lead in battle—Schwytz in Council.

FUeRST (gives STAUFFACHER his hand).

Then take your place.

STAUFFACHER.

Not I. Some older man.

HOFE.

Ulrich, the Smith, is the most aged here.

MAUER.

A worthy man, but not a freeman; no! —No bondman can be judge in Switzerland.

STAUFF.

Is not Herr Reding here, our old Landamman! Where can we find a worthier man than he?

FUeRST.

Let him be Amman and the Diet's chief! You that agree with me, hold up your hands!

[All hold up their right hands.]

REDING (stepping into the centre).

I cannot lay my hands upon the books; But by yon everlasting stars I swear, Never to swerve from justice and the right.

[The two swords are placed before him, and a circle formed; Schwytz in the centre, Uri on his right, Unterwald on his left.]

REDING (resting on his battle sword).

Why, at the hour when spirits walk the earth, Meet the three Cantons of the mountains here, Upon the lake's inhospitable shore? What may the purport be of this new league We here contract beneath the starry heaven?

STAUFFACHER (entering the circle).

'Tis no new league that here we now contract; But one our fathers framed, in ancient times, We purpose to renew! For know, confederates, Though mountain ridge and lake divide our bounds, And each Canton by its own laws is ruled, Yet are we but one race, born of one blood, And all are children of one common home.

WINK.

Is then the burden of our legends true, That we came hither from a distant land? Oh, tell us what you know, that our new league May reap fresh vigor from the leagues of old.

STAUFF.

Hear, then, what aged herdsmen tell. There dwelt A mighty people in the land that lies Back to the north. The scourge of famine came; And in this strait 'twas publicly resolved That each tenth man, on whom the lot might fall, Should leave the country. They obey'd—and forth, With loud lamentings, men and women went, A mighty host; and to the south moved on, Cutting their way through Germany by the sword, Until they gained these pine-clad hills of ours; Nor stopp'd they ever on their forward course, Till at the shaggy dell they halted where The Mueta flows through its luxuriant meads. No trace of human creature met their eye, Save one poor hut upon the desert shore, Where dwelt a lonely man, and kept the ferry. A tempest raged—the lake rose mountains high And barr'd their further progress. Thereupon They view'd the country—found it rich in wood, Discover'd goodly springs, and felt as they Were in their own dear native land once more. Then they resolved to settle on the spot; Erected there the ancient town of Schwytz; And many a day of toil had they to clear The tangled brake and forest's spreading roots. Meanwhile their numbers grew, the soil became Unequal to sustain them, and they cross'd To the black mountain, far as Weissland, where, Conceal'd behind eternal walls of ice, Another people speak another tongue. They built the village of Stanz, beside the Kernwald; The village Altdorf, in the vale of Reuss; Yet, ever mindful of their parent stem, The men of Schwytz, from all the stranger race That since that time have settled in the land, Each other recognize. Their hearts still know, And beat fraternally to kindred blood.

[Extends his hand right and left.]

MAUER.

Ay, we are all one heart, one blood, one race!

ALL (joining hands).

We are one people, and will act as one.

STAUFF.

The nations round us bear a foreign yoke; For they have to the conqueror succumbed. Nay, e'en within our frontiers may be found Some, that owe villein service to a lord, A race of bonded serfs from sire to son. But we, the genuine race of ancient Swiss, Have kept our freedom from the first till now. Never to princes have we bow'd the knee; Freely we sought protection of the Empire.

ROeSSEL.

Freely we sought it—freely it was given. 'Tis so set down in Emperor Frederick's charter.

STAUFF.

For the most free have still some feudal lord. There must be still a chief, a judge supreme, To whom appeal may lie, in case of strife. And therefore was it that our sires allow'd, For what they had recover'd from the waste, This honor to the Emperor, the lord Of all the German and Italian soil; And, like the other free men of his realm, Engaged to aid him with their swords in war; The free man's duty this alone should be, To guard the Empire that keeps guard for him.

MELCH.

He's but a slave that would acknowledge more.

STAUFF.

They followed, when the Heribann[53] went forth, The imperial standard, and they fought its battles! To Italy they march'd in arms, to place The Caesars' crown upon the Emperor's head. But still at home they ruled themselves in peace By their own laws and ancient usages. The Emperor's only right was to adjudge The penalty of death; he therefore named Some mighty noble as his delegate, That had no stake or interest in the land, Who was call'd in, when doom was to be pass'd, And, in the face of day, pronounced decree, Clear and distinctly, fearing no man's hate. What traces here, that we are bondsmen? Speak, If there be any can gainsay my words!

HOFE.

No! You have spoken but the simple truth; We never stoop'd beneath a tyrant's yoke.

STAUFF.

Even to the Emperor we did not submit, When he gave judgment 'gainst us for the church; For when the Abbey of Einsiedlen claimed The Alp our fathers and ourselves had grazed, And showed an ancient charter which bestowed The land on them as being ownerless— For our existence there had been concealed— What was our answer? This: "The grant is void. No Emperor can bestow what is our own And if the Empire shall deny our rights, We can, within our mountains, right ourselves!" Thus spake our fathers! And shall we endure The shame and infamy of this new yoke, And from the vassal brook what never king Dared, in his plenitude of power, attempt? This soil we have created for ourselves, By the hard labor of our hands; we've changed The giant forest, that was erst the haunt Of savage bears, into a home for man; Extirpated the dragon's brood, that wont To rise, distent with venom, from the swamps; Rent the thick misty canopy that hung Its blighting vapors on the dreary waste; Blasted the solid rock; across the chasm Thrown the firm bridge for the wayfaring man. By the possession of a thousand years The soil is ours. And shall an alien lord, Himself a vassal, dare to venture here, Insult us by our own hearth fires—attempt To forge the chains of bondage for our hands, And do us shame on our own proper soil? Is there no help against such wrong as this?

[Great sensation among the people.]

Yes! there's a limit to the despot's power! When the oppress'd for justice looks in vain, When his sore burden may no more be borne, With fearless heart he makes appeal to Heaven, And thence brings down his everlasting rights, Which there abide, inalienably his, And indestructible as are the stars. Nature's primeval state returns again, Where man stands hostile to his fellow man; And if all other means shall fail his need, One last resource remains—his own good sword. Our dearest treasures call to us for aid Against the oppressor's violence; we stand For country, home, for wives, for children here!

ALL (clashing their swords).

Here stand we for our homes, our wives, and children.

ROeSSELMANN (stepping into the circle).

Bethink ye well, before ye draw the sword. Some peaceful compromise may yet be made; Speak but one word, and at your feet you'll see The men who now oppress you. Take the terms That have been often tendered you; renounce The Empire, and to Austria swear allegiance!

MAUER.

What says the priest? To Austria allegiance?

BUHEL.

Hearken not to him!

WINKELRIED.

'Tis a traitor's counsel, His country's foe!

REDING.

Peace, peace, confederates!

SEWA.

Homage to Austria, after wrongs like these!

FLUE.

Shall Austria extort from us by force What we denied to kindness and entreaty?

MEYER.

Then should we all be slaves, deservedly.

MAUER.

Yes! Let him forfeit all a Switzer's rights, Who talks of yielding thus to Austria's yoke! I stand on this, Landamman. Let this be The foremost of our laws!

MELCHTHAL.

Even so! Whoe'er Shall talk of bearing Austria's yoke, let him Of all his rights and honors be despoiled, No man thenceforth receive him at his hearth!

ALL (raising their right hands).

Agreed! Be this the law!

REDING (after a pause).

The law it is.

ROeSSEL.

Now you are free—this law hath made you free. Never shall Austria obtain by force What she has fail'd to gain by friendly suit.

WEIL.

On with the order of the day! Proceed!

REDING.

Confederates! Have all gentler means been tried? Perchance the Emp'ror knows not of our wrongs; It may not be his will we suffer thus Were it not well to make one last attempt, And lay our grievances before the throne, Ere we unsheath the sword? Force is at best A fearful thing e'en in a righteous cause; God only helps, when man can help no more.

STAUFFACHER (to KONRAD HUNN).

Here you can give us information. Speak!

HUNN.

I was at Rheinfeld, at the Emperor's Court, Deputed by the Cantons to complain Of the oppressions of these governors, And of our liberties the charter claim Which each new king till now has ratified. I found the envoys there of many a town, From Suabia and the valley of the Rhine, Who all received their parchments as they wish'd, And straight went home again with merry heart. But me, your envoy, they to the council sent, Where I with empty cheer was soon dismiss'd. "The Emperor at present was engaged; Some other time he would attend to us!" I turn'd away, and passing through the hall, With heavy heart, in a recess I saw The Grand Duke John[54] in tears, and by his side The noble lords of Wart and Tegerfeld, Who beckon'd me, and said, "Redress yourselves. Expect not justice from the Emperor. Does he not plunder his own brother's child, And keep from him his just inheritance?" The Duke claims his maternal property, Urging he's now of age, and 'tis full time That he should rule his people and estates What is the answer made to him? The king Places a chaplet on his head; "Behold The fitting ornament," he cries, "of youth!"

MAUER.

You hear. Expect not from the Emperor Or right or justice! Then redress yourselves!

REDING.

No other course is left us. Now, advise What plan most likely to insure success.

FUeRST.

To shake a thraldom off that we abhor, To keep our ancient rights inviolate, As we received them from our fathers—this, Not lawless innovation, is our aim. Let Caesar still retain what is his due; And he that is a vassal, let him pay The service he is sworn to faithfully.

MEYER.

I hold my land of Austria in fief.

FUeRST.

Continue, then, to pay your feudal dues.

WEIT.

I'm tenant of the lords of Rappersweil.

FUeRST.

Continue, then, to pay them rent and tithe.

ROeSSEL.

Of Zurich's Abbess humble vassal I.

FUeRST.

Give to the cloister what the cloister claims.

STAUFF.

The Empire only is my feudal lord.

FUeRST.

What needs must be, we'll do, but nothing more. We'll drive these tyrants and their minions hence, And raze their towering strongholds to the ground, Yet shed, if possible, no drop of blood. Let the Emperor see that we were driven to cast The sacred duties of respect away; And when he finds we keep within our bounds, His wrath, belike, may yield to policy; For truly is that nation to be fear'd That, arms in hand, is temperate in its wrath.

REDING.

But prithee tell us how may this be done The enemy is arm'd as well as we, And, rest assured, he will not yield in peace.

STAUFF.

He will, whene'er he sees us up in arms; We shall surprise him, ere he is prepared.

MEYER.

Easily said, but not so easily done. Two strongholds dominate the country—they Protect the foe, and should the king invade us, Our task would then be dangerous indeed. Rossberg and Sarnen both must be secured, Before a sword is drawn in either Canton.

STAUFF.

Should we delay, the foe would soon be warned. We are too numerous for secrecy.

MEYER.

There is no traitor in the Forest States.

ROeSSEL.

But even zeal may heedlessly betray.

FUeRST.

Delay it no longer, and the keep at Altdorf Will be complete—the governor secure.

MEYER.

You think but of yourselves.

SACRISTAN.

You're unjust!

MEYER.

Unjust! said you? Dares Uri taunt us so?

REDING.

Peace, on your oath!

SACRISTAN.

If Schwytz be leagued with Uri, Why, then, indeed, we must perforce be dumb.

REDING.

And let me tell you, in the Diet's name, Your hasty spirit much disturbs the peace. Stand we not all for the same common cause?

WINK.

What, if till Christmas we delay? 'Tis then The custom for the serfs to throng the castle, Bringing the governor their annual gifts. Thus may some ten or twelve selected men Assemble unobserved, within its walls, Bearing about their persons pikes of steel Which may be quickly mounted upon staves; For arms are not admitted to the fort. The rest can fill the neighb'ring wood, prepared To sally forth upon a trumpet's blast, Soon as their comrades have secured the gate; And thus the castle will with ease be ours.

MELCH.

The Rossberg I will undertake to scale. I have a sweetheart in the garrison, Whom with some tender words I could persuade To lower me at night a hempen ladder. Once up, my friends will not be long behind.

REDING.

Are all resolved in favor of delay?

[The majority raise their hands.]

STAUFFACHER (counting them).

Twenty to twelve is the majority.

FUeRST.

If on the appointed day the castles fall, From mountain on to mountain we shall speed The fiery signal: in the capital Of every Canton quickly rouse the Landsturm.[55] Then, when these tyrants see our martial front, Believe me, they will never make so bold As risk the conflict, but will gladly take Safe conduct forth beyond our boundaries.

STAUFF.

Not so with Gessler. He will make a stand. Surrounded with his dread array of horse, Blood will be shed before he quits the field, And even expell'd he'd still be terrible. 'Tis hard, nay, dangerous, to spare his life.

BAUM.

Place me where'er a life is to be lost; I owe my life to Tell, and cheerfully Will pledge it for my country. I have clear'd. My honor, and my heart is now at rest.

REDING.

Counsel will come with circumstance. Be patient! Something must still be to the moment left. Yet, while by night we hold our Diet here, The morning, see, has on the mountain tops Kindled her glowing beacon. Let us part, Ere the broad sun surprise us.

FUeRST.

Do not fear. The night wanes slowly from these vales of ours.

[All have involuntarily taken off their caps, and contemplate the breaking of day, absorbed in silence.]

ROeSSEL.

By this fair light which greeteth us, before Those other nations, that, beneath us far, In noisome cities pent, draw painful breath, Swear we the oath of our confederacy! A band of brothers true we swear to be, Never to part in danger or in death!

[They repeat his words with three fingers raised.]

We swear we will be free, as were our sires, And sooner die than live in slavery!

[All repeat as before.]

We swear, to put our trust in God Most High, And not to quail before the might of man!

[All repeat as before, and embrace one another.]

STAUFF.

Now every man pursue his several way Back to his friends, his kindred, and his home. Let the herd winter up his flock, and gain In secret friends for this great league of ours! What for a time must be endured, endure, And let the reckoning of the tyrants grow, Till the great day arrive when they shall pay The general and particular debt at once. Let every man control his own just rage, And nurse his vengeance for the public wrongs: For he whom selfish interests now engage Defrauds the general weal of what to it belongs.

[As they are going off in profound silence, in three different directions, the orchestra plays a solemn air. The empty scene remains open for some time, showing the rays of the sun rising over the Glaciers.]



* * * * *



ACT III

SCENE I

Court before TELL'S house. TELL with an axe. HEDWIG engaged in her domestic duties. WALTER and WILLIAM in the background, playing with a little cross-bow.

(WALTER Sings).

With his cross-bow, and his quiver, The huntsman speeds his way, Over mountain, dale, and river, At the dawning of the day. As the eagle, on wild pinion, Is the king in realms of air, So the hunter claims dominion Over crag and forest lair. Far as ever bow can carry, Thro' the trackless airy space, All he sees he makes his quarry, Soaring bird and beast of chase.

WILLIAM (runs forward).

My string has snapt! Oh, father, mend it, do!

TELL.

Not I; a true-born archer helps himself.

[Boys retire.]

HEDWIG.

The boys begin to use the bow betimes.

TELL.

'Tis early practice only makes the master.

HEDWIG.

Ah! Would to heaven they never learnt the art!

TELL.

But they shall learn it, wife, in all its points. Whoe'er would carve an independent way Through life, must learn to ward or plant a blow.

HEDWIG.

Alas, alas! and they will never rest Contentedly at home.

TELL.

No more can I! I was not framed by nature for a shepherd. My restless spirit ever yearns for change; I only feel the flush and joy of life If I can start fresh quarry every day.

HEDWIG.

Heedless the while of all your wife's alarms, As she sits watching through long hours at home. For my soul sinks with terror at the tales The servants tell about the risks you run; Whene'er we part, my trembling heart forebodes That you will ne'er come back to me again. I see you on the frozen mountain steeps, Missing, perchance, your leap from crag to crag. I see the chamois, with a wild rebound, Drag you down with him o'er the precipice. I see the avalanche close o'er your head, The treacherous ice give way, and you sink down Entombed alive within its hideous gulf. Ah! in a hundred varying forms does death Pursue the Alpine huntsman on his course. That way of life can surely ne'er be blessed, Where life and limb are perill'd every hour.

TELL.

The man that bears a quick and steady eye, And trusts in God, and his own lusty thews, Passes, with scarce a scar, through every danger. The mountain cannot awe the mountain child.

[Having finished his work he lays aside his tools.]

And now, methinks, the door will hold awhile— Axe in the house oft saves the carpenter.

[Takes his cap.]

HEDWIG.

Whither away?

TELL.

To Altdorf, to your father.

HEDWIG.

You have some dangerous enterprise in view? Confess!

TELL.

Why think you so?

HEDWIG.

Some scheme's on foot Against the governors. There was a Diet Held on the Rootli—that I know—and you Are one of the confederacy, I'm sure.

TELL.

I was not there. Yet will I not hold back, Whene'er my country calls me to her aid.

HEDWIG.

Wherever danger is, will you be placed. On you, as ever, will the burden fall.



TELL.

Each man shall have the post that fits his powers.

HEDWIG.

You took—ay, 'mid the thickest of the storm— The man of Unterwald across the lake. 'Tis marvel you escaped. Had you no thought Of wife and children, then?

TELL.

Dear wife, I had; And therefore saved the father for his children.

HEDWIG.

To brave the lake in all its wrath! 'Twas not To put your trust in God! 'Twas tempting Him.

TELL.

Little will he that's over cautious do.

HEDWIG.

Yes, you've a kind and helping hand for all But be in straits, and who will lend you aid?

TELL.

God grant I ne'er may stand in need of it!

[Takes up his cross-bow and arrows.]

HEDWIG.

Why take your cross-bow with you? leave it here.

TELL.

I want my right hand, when I want my bow.

[The boys return.]

WALTER.

Where, father, are you going?

TELL.

To grand-dad, boy— To Altdorf. Will you go?

WALTER. Ay, that I will!

HEDWIG.

The Viceroy's there just now. Go not to Altdorf!

TELL.

He leaves today.

HEDWIG.

Then let him first be gone, Cross not his path.—You know he bears us grudge.

TELL.

His ill-will cannot greatly injure me. I do what's right, and care for no man's hate.

HEDWIG.

'Tis those who do what's right, whom most he hates.

TELL.

Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween, His knightship will be glad to leave in peace.

HEDWIG.

Ay!—Are you sure of that?

TELL.

Not long ago, As I was hunting through the wild ravines Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot— There, as I took my solitary way Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where 'twas Impossible to step on either side; For high above rose, like a giant wall, The precipice's side, and far below The Shechen thunder'd o'er its rifted bed;—

[The boys press toward him, looking upon him with excited curiosity.]

There, face to face, I met the Viceroy. He Alone with me—and I myself alone— Mere man to man, and near us the abyss, And when his lordship had perused my face, And knew the man he had severely fined On some most trivial ground, not long before, And saw me, with my sturdy bow in hand, Come striding toward him, his cheek grew pale, His knees refused their office, and I thought He would have sunk against the mountain side. Then, touch'd with pity for him, I advanced, Respectfully, and said "'Tis I, my lord." But ne'er a sound could he compel his lips To frame in answer. Only with his hand He beckoned me in silence to proceed. So I pass'd on, and sent his train to seek him.

HEDWIG.

He trembled, then, before you? Woe the while You saw his weakness; that he'll ne'er forgive.

TELL.

I shun him, therefore, and he'll not seek me.

HEDWIG.

But stay away today. Go hunt instead!

TELL.

What do you fear?

HEDWIG.

I am uneasy. Stay!

TELL.

Why thus distress yourself without a cause?

HEDWIG.

Because there is no cause. Tell, Tell! stay here!

TELL.

Dear wife, I gave my promise I would go.

HEDWIG.

Must you—then go. But leave the boys with me.

WALTER.

No, mother dear, I go with father, I.

HEDWIG.

How, Walter! will you leave your mother then?

WALTER.

I'll bring you pretty things from grandpa.

[Exit with his father.]

WILLIAM.

Mother, I'll stay with you!

HEDWIG (embracing him).

Yes, yes! thou art My own dear child. Thou'rt all that's left to me.

[She goes to the gate of the court and looks anxiously after TELL and her son for a considerable time.]

SCENE II

A retired part of the Forest.-Brooks dashing in spray over the rocks.

Enter BERTHA in a hunting dress. Immediately afterward RUDENZ

BERTHA.

He follows me. Now, then, to speak my mind!

RUDENZ (entering hastily).

At length, dear lady, we have met alone In this wild dell, with rocks on every side, No jealous eye can watch our interview. Now let my heart throw off this weary silence.

BERTHA.

But are you sure they will not follow us?

RUDENZ.

See, yonder goes the chase! Now, then, or never! I must avail me of this precious chance— Must hear my doom decided by thy lips, Though it should part me from thy side forever. Oh, do not arm that gentle face of thine With looks so stern and harsh! Who—who am I, That dare aspire so high, as unto thee? Fame hath not stamp'd me yet; nor may I take My place amid the courtly throng of knights, That, crown'd with glory's lustre, woo thy smiles. Nothing have I to offer but a heart That overflows with truth and love for thee.

BERTHA (sternly and with severity).

And dare you speak to me of love—of truth! You, that are faithless to your nearest ties! You, that are Austria's slave-bartered and sold To her—an alien, and your country's tyrant!

RUDENZ.

How! This reproach from thee! Whom do I seek, On Austria's side, my own beloved, but thee?

BERTHA.

Think you to find me in the traitor's ranks? Now, as I live, I'd rather give my hand To Gessler's self, all despot though he be, Than to the Switzer who forgets his birth, And stoops to be a tyrant's servile tool.

RUDENZ.

Oh heaven, what words are these?

BERTHA.

Say! what can lie Nearer the good man's heart than friends and kindred! What dearer duty to a noble soul Than to protect weak suffering innocence, And vindicate the rights of the oppress'd? My very soul bleeds for your countrymen. I suffer with them, for I needs must love them; They are so gentle, yet so full of power; They draw my whole heart to them. Every day I look upon them with increased esteem. But you, whom nature and your knightly vow Have given them as their natural protector, Yet who desert them and abet their foes In forging shackles for your native land, You—you incense and wound me to the core. It tries me to the utmost not to hate you.

RUDENZ.

Is not my country's welfare all my wish? What seek I for her but to purchase peace 'Neath Austria's potent sceptre?

BERTHA.

Bondage, rather! You would drive freedom from the last stronghold That yet remains for her upon the earth. The people know their own true int'rests better: Their simple natures are not warp'd by show. But round your head a tangling net is wound.

RUDENZ.

Bertha, you hate me—you despise me!

BERTHA.

Nay! And if I did, 'twere better for my peace. But to see him despised and despicable— The man whom one might love—

RUDENZ.

Oh, Bertha. You Show me the pinnacle of heavenly bliss, Then, in a moment, hurl me to despair!

BERTHA.

No, no! the noble is not all extinct Within you. It but slumbers—I will rouse it. It must have cost you many a fiery struggle To crush the virtues of your race within you. But, heaven be praised, 'tis mightier than yourself, And you are noble in your own despite!

RUDENZ.

You trust me, then? Oh, Bertha, with thy love What might I not become!

BERTHA.

Be only that For which your own high nature destin'd you. Fill the position you were born to fill;— Stand by your people and your native land, And battle for your sacred rights!

RUDENZ.

Alas! How can I win you—how can you be mine, If I take arms against the Emperor? Will not your potent kinsmen interpose To dictate the disposal of your hand?

BERTHA.

All my estates lie in the Forest Cantons; And I am free, when Switzerland is free.

RUDENZ.

Oh! what a prospect, Bertha, hast thou shown me!

BERTHA.

Hope not to win my hand by Austria's grace; Fain would they lay their grasp on my estates To swell the vast domains which now they hold. The selfsame lust of conquest, that would rob You of your liberty, endangers mine. Ob, friend, I'm mark'd for sacrifice;—to be The guerdon of some parasite, perchance! They'll drag me hence to the Imperial court, That hateful haunt of falsehood and intrigue, And marriage bonds I loathe await me there. Love, love alone—your love can rescue me.

RUDENZ.

And thou couldst be content, love, to live here? In my own native land to be my own? Oh, Bertha, all the yearnings of my soul For this great world and its tumultuous strife— What were they, but a yearning after thee? In glory's path I sought for thee alone, And all my thirst of fame was only love. But if in this calm vale thou canst abide With me, and bid earth's pomps and pride adieu, Then is the goal of my ambition won; And the rough tide of the tempestuous world May dash and rave around these firm-set hills! No wandering wishes more have I to send Forth to the busy scene that stirs beyond. Then may these rocks, that girdle us, extend Their giant walls impenetrably round, And this sequestered happy vale alone Look up to heaven, and be my paradise!

BERTHA.

Now art thou all my fancy dream'd of thee! My trust has not been given to thee in vain.

RUDENZ.

Away, ye idle phantoms of my folly; In mine own home I'll find my happiness. Here, where the gladsome boy to manhood grew, Where ev'ry brook, and tree, and mountain peak, Teems with remembrances of happy hours, In mine own native land thou wilt be mine. Ah, I have ever loved it well, I feel How poor without it were all earthly joys.

BERTHA.

Where should we look for happiness on earth, If not in this dear land of innocence— Here, where old truth hath its familiar home? Where fraud and guile are strangers, envy ne'er Shall dim the sparkling fountain of our bliss, And ever bright the hours shall o'er us glide. There do I see thee, in true manly worth, The foremost of the free and of thy peers, Revered with homage pure and unconstrain'd, Wielding a power that kings might envy thee.

RUDENZ.

And thee I see, thy sex's crowning gem, With thy sweet woman's grace and wakeful love, Building a heaven for me within my home, And, as the spring-time scatters forth her flowers, Adorning with thy charms my path of life, And spreading joy and sunshine all around.

BERTHA.

And this it was, dear friend, that caused my grief, To see thee blast this life's supremest bliss With thine own hand. Ah! what had been my fate, Had I been forced to follow some proud lord, Some ruthless despot, to his gloomy keep! Here are no keeps, here are no bastion'd walls To part me from a people I can bless.

RUDENZ.

Yet, how to free myself; to loose the coils Which I have madly twined around my head?

BERTHA.

Tear them asunder with a man's resolve. Whate'er ensue, firm by thy people stand! It is thy post by birth.

[Hunting horns are heard in the distance.]

But hark! The chase! Farewell—'tis needful we should part—away! Fight for thy land; thou fightest for thy love. One foe fills all our souls with dread; the blow That makes one free, emancipates us all.

[Exeunt severally.]

SCENE III

A meadow near Altdorf. Trees in the foreground. At the back of the stage a cap upon a pole. The prospect is bounded by the Bannberg, which is surmounted by a snow-capped mountain.

FRIESSHARDT and LEUTHOLD on guard

FRIESS.

We keep our watch in vain. Zounds! not a soul Will pass and do obeisance to the cap. But yesterday the place swarm'd like a fair; Now the old green looks like a desert, quite, Since yonder scarecrow hung upon the pole.

LEUTH.

Only the vilest rabble show themselves, And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us. All honest citizens would sooner make A weary circuit over half the town, Than bend their backs before our master's cap.

FRIESS.

They were obliged to pass this way at noon, As they were coming from the Council House. I counted then upon a famous catch, For no one thought of bowing to the cap, But Roesselmann, the priest, was even with me: Coming just then from some sick man, he takes His stand before the pole—lifts up the Host— The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell— When down they dropp'd on knee—myself and all— In reverence to the Host, but not the cap.

LEUTH.

Hark ye, companion, I've a shrewd suspicion, Our post's no better than the pillory. It is a burning shame, a trooper should Stand sentinel before an empty cap, And every honest fellow must despise us. To do obeisance to a cap, too! Faith, I never heard an order so absurd!

FRIESS.

Why not, an't please you, to an empty cap? You've duck'd, I'm sure, to many an empty sconce.

[HILDEGARD, MECHTHILD, and ELSBETH enter with their children, and station themselves around the pole.]

LEUTH.

And you are a time-serving sneak that takes Delight in bringing honest folks to harm. For my part, he that likes may pass the cap:— I'll shut my eyes and take no note of him.

MECH.

There hangs the Viceroy! Your obeisance, children!

ELSBETH.

I would to God he'd go, and leave his cap! The country would be none the worse for it.

FRIESSHARDT (driving them away).

Out of the way! Confounded pack of gossips! Who sent for you? Go, send your husbands here, If they have courage to defy the order.

[TELL enters with his cross-bow, leading his son WALTER by the hand. They pass the hat without noticing it, and advance to the front of the stage.]

WALTER (pointing to the Bannberg).

Father, is't true, that on the mountain there The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed?

TELL.

Who says so, boy?

WALTER.

The master herdsman, father! He tells us there's a charm upon the trees, And if a man shall injure them, the hand That struck the blow will grow from out the grave.

TELL.

There is a charm about them—that's the truth. Dost see those glaciers yonder—those white horns— That seem to melt away into the sky?

WALTER.

They are the peaks that thunder so at night, And send the avalanches down upon us.

TELL.

They are; and Altdorf long ago had been Submerged beneath these avalanches' weight, Did not the forest there above the town Stand like a bulwark to arrest their fall.

WALTER (after musing a little).

And are there countries with no mountains, father?

TELL.

Yes, if we travel downward from our heights, And keep descending where the rivers go, We reach, a wide and level country, where Our mountain torrents brawl and foam no more, And fair large rivers glide serenely on. All quarters of the heaven may there be scann'd Without impediment. The corn grows there In broad and lovely fields, and all the land Is like a garden fair to look upon.

WALTER.

But, father, tell me, wherefore haste we not Away to this delightful land, instead Of toiling here and struggling as we do?

TELL.

The land is fair and bountiful as Heaven; But they who till it never may enjoy The fruits of what they sow.

WALTER.

Live they not free, As you do, on the land their fathers left them?

TELL.

The fields are all the bishop's or the king's.

WALTER.

But they may freely hunt among the woods?

TELL.

The game is all the monarch's—bird and beast.

WALTER.

But they, at least, may surely fish the streams?

TELL.

Stream, lake, and sea, all to the king belong.

WALTER.

Who is this king, of whom they're so afraid?

TELL.

He is the man who fosters and protects them.

WALTER.

Have they not courage to protect themselves?

TELL.

The neighbor there dare not his neighbor trust.

WALTER.

I should want breathing room in such a land. I'd rather dwell beneath the avalanches.

TELL.

'Tis better, child, to have these glacier peaks Behind one's back than evil-minded men!

[They are about to pass on.]

WALTER.

See, father, see the cap on yonder pole!

TELL.

What is the cap to us? Come, let's begone.

[As he is going, FRIESSHARDT, presenting his pike, stops him.]

FRIESS.

Stand, I command you, in the Emperor's name!

TELL (seizing the pike).

What would ye? Wherefore do ye stop me thus?

FRIESS.

You've broke the mandate, and with us must go.

LEUTH.

You have not done obeisance to the cap.

TELL.

Friend, let me go.

FRIESS.

Away, away to prison!

WALTER.

Father to prison? Help!

[Calling to the side scene.]

This way, you men! Good people, help! They're dragging him to prison!

[ROeSSELMANN the Priest, and the SACRISTAN, with three other men, enter.]

SACRIST.

What's here amiss?

ROeSSELMANN.

Why do you seize this man?

FRIESS.

He is an enemy of the King—a traitor.

TELL (seizing him with violence).

A traitor, I?

ROeSSELMANN.

Friend, thou art wrong. 'Tis Tell, An honest man, and worthy citizen.

WALTER (descries FUeRST and runs up to him).

Grandfather, help, they want to seize my father!

FRIESS. Away to prison!

FUeRST (running in).

Stay, I offer bail. For God's sake, Tell, what is the matter here?

[MELCHTHAL and STAUFFACHER enter.]

LEUTH.

He has contemn'd the Viceroy's sovereign power, Refusing flatly to acknowledge it.

STAUFF.

Has Tell done this?

MELCHTHAL.

Villain, you know 'tis false!

LEUTH.

He has not made obeisance to the cap.

FUeRST.

And shall for this to prison? Come, my friend, Take my security, and let him go.

FRIESS.

Keep your security for yourself—you'll need it. We only do our duty. Hence with him.

MELCHTHAL (to the country people).

This is too bad—shall we stand by and see Him dragged away before our very eyes?

SACRIST.

We are the strongest. Friends, endure it not, Our countrymen will back us to a man.

FRIESS.

Who dares the governor's commands?

OTHER THREE PEASANTS (running in).

We'll help you. What's the matter? Down with them!

[HILDEGARD, MECHTHILD and ELSBETH return.]

TELL.

Go, go, good people, I can help myself. Think you, had I a mind to use my strength, These pikes of theirs should daunt me?

MELCHTHAL (to FRIESSHARDT).

Only try— Try from our midst to force him, if you dare.

FUeRST and STAUFFACHER.

Peace, peace, friends!

FRIESSHARDT (loudly).

Riot! Insurrection, ho!

[Hunting-horns without.]

WOMEN.

The Governor!

FRIESSHARDT (raising his voice).

Rebellion! Mutiny!

STAUFF.

Roar till you burst, knave!

ROeSSELMANN and MELCHTHAL.

Will you hold your tongue?

FRIESSHARDT (calling still louder).

Help, help, I say, the servants of the law!

FUeRST.

The Viceroy here! Then we shall smart for this!

[Enter GESSLER on horseback, with a falcon on his wrist: RUDOLPH DER HARRAS, BERTHA, and RUDENZ, and a numerous train of armed attendants, who form a circle of lances round the whole stage.]

HARRAS.

Room for the Viceroy!

GESSLER.

Drive the clowns apart. Why throng the people thus? Who calls for help?

[General silence.]



Who was it? I will know.

[FRIESSHARDT steps forward.]

And who art thou? And why hast thou this man in custody?

[Gives his falcon to an attendant.]

FRIESS.

Dread sir, I am a soldier of your guard, And station'd sentinel beside the cap; This man I apprehended in the act Of passing it without obeisance due; So as you ordered, I arrested him, Whereupon to rescue him the people tried.

GESSLER (after a pause).

And do you, Tell, so lightly hold your King, And me, who act as his vice-regent here, That you refuse obeisance to the cap, I hung aloft to test your loyalty? I read in this a disaffected spirit.

TELL.

Pardon me, good my lord! The action sprung From inadvertence—not from disrespect. Were I discreet, I were not William Tell. Forgive me now—I'll not offend again.

GESSLER (after a pause).

I hear, Tell, you're a master with the bow— From every rival bear the palm away.

WALTER.

That's very truth, sir! At a hundred yards He'll shoot an apple for you off the tree.

GESSLER.

Is that boy thine, Tell?

TELL.

Yes, my gracious lord.

GESSLER.

Hast any more of them?

TELL.

Two boys, my lord.

GESSLER.

And, of the two, which dost thou love the most?

TELL.

Sir, both the boys are dear to me alike.

GESSLER.

Then, Tell, since at a hundred yards thou canst Bring down the apple from the tree, thou shalt Approve thy skill before me. Take thy bow— Thou hast it there at hand—make ready, then, To shoot an apple from the stripling's head! But take this counsel—look well to thine aim, See, that thou hit'st the apple at the first, For, shouldst thou miss, thy head shall pay the forfeit.

[All give signs of horror.]

TELL.

What monstrous thing, my lord, is this you ask? What I from the head of mine own child!—No, no! It cannot be, kind sir, you meant not that— God, in His grace, forbid! You could not ask A father seriously to do that thing!

GESSLER.

Thou art to shoot an apple from his head! I do desire—command it so.

TELL.

What, I! Level my cross-bow at the darling head Of mine own child? No—rather let me die!

GESSLER.

Or thou must shoot, or with thee dies the boy.

TELL.

Shall I become the murderer of my child! You have no children, sir—you do not know The tender throbbings of a father's heart.

GESSLER.

How now, Tell, on a sudden so discreet? I had been told thou wert a visionary— A wanderer from the paths of common men. Thou lov'st the marvelous. So have I now Cull'd out for thee a task of special daring. Another man might pause and hesitate;— Thou dashest at it, heart and soul, at once.

BERTHA.

Oh, do not jest, my lord, with these poor souls! See, how they tremble, and how pale they look, So little used are they to hear thee jest.

GESSLER.

Who tells thee that I jest?

[Grasping a branch above his head.]

Here is the apple. Room there, I say! And let him take his distance— Just eighty paces—as the custom is— Not an inch more or less! It was his boast That at a hundred he could hit his man. Now, archer, to your task, and look you miss not!

HARRAS.

Heavens! this grows serious—down, boy, on your knees, And beg the governor to spare your life.

FUeRST (aside to MELCHTHAL, who can scarcely restrain his indignation).

Command yourself—be calm, I beg of you!

BERTHA (to the governor).

Let this suffice you, sir! It is inhuman To trifle with a father's anguish thus. Although this wretched man had forfeited Both life and limb for such a slight offence, Already has he suffer'd tenfold death. Send him away uninjured to his home; He'll know thee well in future; and this hour He and his children's children will remember.

GESSLER.

Open a way there—quick! Why this delay? Thy life is forfeited; I might dispatch thee, And see, I graciously repose thy fate Upon the skill of thine own practised hand. No cause has he to say his doom is harsh Who's made the master of his destiny. Thou boastest thine unerring aim. 'Tis well! Now is the fitting time to show thy skill; The mark is worthy and the prize is great. To hit the bull's eye in the target;—that Can many another do as well as thou; But he, methinks, is master of his craft, Who can at all times on his skill rely, Nor lets his heart disturb or eye or hand.

FUeRST.

My lord, we bow to your authority; But oh, let justice yield to mercy here. Take half my property, nay, take it all, But spare a father this unnatural doom!

WALTER.

Grandfather, do not kneel to that bad man! Say, where am I to stand? I do not fear; My father strikes the bird upon the wing, And will not miss now when 'twould harm his boy!

STAUFF.

Does the child's innocence not touch your heart?

ROeSSEL.

Bethink you, sir, there is a God in heaven, To whom you must account for all your deeds.

GESSLER (pointing to the boy).

Bind him to yonder lime tree!

WALTER.

What! Bind me? No, I will not be bound! I will be still, Still as a lamb—nor even draw my breath! But if you bind me, I cannot be still. Then I shall writhe and struggle with my bonds.

HARRAS.

But let your eyes at least be bandaged, boy!

WALTER.

And why my eyes? No! Do you think I fear An arrow from my father's hand? Not I! I'll wait it firmly, nor so much as wink! Quick, father, show them what thy bow can do. He doubts thy skill—he thinks to ruin us. Shoot then and hit, though but to spite the tyrant!

[He goes to the lime tree, and an apple is placed on his head.]

MELCHTHAL (to the country people).

What! Is this outrage to be perpetrated Before our very eyes? Where is our oath?

STAUFF.

Resist we cannot! Weapons we have none, And see the wood of lances round us! See!

MELCH.

Oh! would to heaven that we had struck at once! God pardon those who counsell'd the delay!

GESSLER (to TELL).

Now to your task! Men bear not arms for naught. To carry deadly tools is dangerous, And on the archer oft his shaft recoils. This right these haughty peasant churls assume Trenches upon their master's privileges: None should be armed but those who bear command. It pleases you to carry bow and bolt;— Well—be it so. I will prescribe the mark.

TELL (bends the bow, and fixes the arrow).

A lane there! Room!

STAUFFACHER.

What, Tell? You would—no, no! You shake—your hand's unsteady—your knees tremble.

TELL (letting the bow sink down).

There's something swims before mine eyes!

WOMEN.

Great Heaven!

TELL. Release me from this shot! Here is my heart!

[Tears open his breast.]

Summon your troopers—let them strike me down!

GESSLER.

'Tis not thy life I want—I want the shot. Thy talent's universal! Nothing daunts thee! The rudder thou canst handle like the bow! No storms affright thee, when a life's at stake. Now, savior, help thyself—thou savest all!